This Kingdom of Sin
by My Sublunary Soul
Summary: Light has lived in a perfect world -- and grown bored of life. When expelled from his sheltered home, he finds there are compelling and exotic worlds beyond his own. But take care, sweet protagonist. True humanity is rotten. AU. Eventual LxLight.
1. The Heirs Apparent

**Note:** I deeply and humbly apologize for having to rewrite this, but I just wasn't satisfied with what I had written before, and I knew I had to tear it down for reconstruction. On a more positive note, I've already gone ahead and drafted the first three chapters, so I _will_ be able to post those up within a reasonable time frame. They exist already; I cannot possibly turn back now. This is my final revision. REALLY.

_Bien à vous_, _mes amis_. :)

* * *

**"This Kingdom of Sin"**  
_The Heirs Apparent_

Welcome to the World,  
Your one and only home.  
Fear not, for you are safe,  
And tomorrow surely comes.  
You have all that you can want,  
So want and ask no more --  
For there is naught to give.

The sated **World**.

**--x--**

**(Fifteen Years Ago)**

The reasons for our selection, we may never know -- if they existed at all. Perhaps there were none.

There were eight of us. We stood side-by-side, single file, on the shore opposite the old man. I held my unlit taper in one hand, the fingers of my only friend in the other. My friend and I, we were nobodies before having been chosen. Just insignificant children observing the solemn proceedings of adults and participating when called upon, without complaint or understanding. They offered us a life, and we accepted; that was all we knew at the time.

The old man spoke from behind an altar, a golden structure that resembled a short pillar with a basin on top. He preached us words of encouragement, of wisdom, of purpose, etc. Most of his words were lost on me, and likely the others as well, for they were uncommonly young. Some were only toddlers.

I breathed in and looked up at the dark velvet sky. It was framed in my vision by the towering glaciers that surrounded us and the shallow lake. There were no stars tonight; the darkness bled uninhibited upon our ceremony, alleviated only faintly by the moonshine falling in intangible rays over our heads. At some point, the old man seemed to have concluded his speech. He was now pouring liquid from a jug into the basin of the altar, filling it to the very brim. When finished, he raised his arms and summoned us.

"Come, children. Your partners shall be revealed."

And so, we waded hesitantly into the water until we were standing knee-deep in the narrow channel. I looked around uncertainly, beginning to feel anxious. When a gentle pressure tightened the grip over my hand, the one without the candle, I knew she felt the same.

"Hail, to the Fourth Cardinal House!" the old man bellowed.

There was a moment in which nothing at all happened.

Then, the youngest child shrieked. The wick of her once-empty candle combusted, a dark red flame now bouncing merrily above the white wax. Whispers broke out among the other children, who pointed to another, quieter toddler, whose candle had apparently performed the same feat. Attendants from the opposite shore splashed forward, scooping up the children and carrying them to the altar.

There, the toddlers were directed to touch the tips of their flames to the liquid. To my amazement, the fires slid off their wicks and glided about on the surface of the water, circling each other repeatedly, before submerging both at once. The children were given chalices with which to drink the liquid. Afterward, they were led aside to wait with the attendants.

"Hail, to the Third Cardinal House!"

Two candles burst into vibrant, golden flames.

One of the boys splashed enthusiastically across the channel, arriving at the altar and dipping his candle before his partner had even stirred. The other, less brazen child was carried across by an attendant and instructed to repeat the ritual. They drank and stepped aside.

"Hail, to the Second Cardinal House!"

Green sparked on the tip of her candle, my friend's candle, and I knew it was time for her to go. A twin light glinted from a short distance away, where a boy with striking eyes turned and gazed at us. Without a word, the boy waded toward us and took her by the arm, leading her to the altar, where they repeated the ritual. I watched on in silence.

"Hail, to the First Cardinal House!"

The tip of my candle ignited in a pallid blue flame. There was only one other child remaining, so I waited for her candle to transform. I waited. I waited and I waited, and I waited so long that a curious murmur began to rise among the attendants. Even the old man seemed puzzled.

"...To the First Cardinal House!" he repeated.

Finally, a spark glimmered above her stick of wax. She bit her lip and started toward the opposite shore. Together, we approached the altar, touching the crown of our flames to the surface. Then, suddenly, she began to tremble and sob. I stood beside her awkwardly as the old man patted her on the head and quieted her. Meanwhile, our flames circled each other rapidly on the inner rim of the basin. Their reflections in the liquid twinkled against the navy-colored night, which seemed to accent the mild, bluish hue of mine.

But hers was just white.

The surface of the liquid rippled as they submerged, and the girl's sobs softened. I said nothing. We drank the liquid and were pulled aside with the others. As the old man began to speak again, I glanced at the other children, counting heads. There were eight of us. The Fifth House was never mentioned.

"Thus, the newest generation of monarchs has been ordained. May the blessings of all the Universe shine upon you, the future reign."

And so it was: the ceremony had reached its completion, and we had been the honored participants. We, the Heirs apparent.

* * *

**The Beautiful World**

**--x--**

Well, champ. Today's the big day.

The Coming of Age was tonight. Light and his peers would turn eighteen, become certified adults, and receive their assigned roles in the Community. It was all a routine procedure, the annual celebration that was held down in front of City Hall, where all the citizens gathered to watch and applaud their newest members. Last year, Misa had insisted that he come to watch her induction in the ceremony, and he had come, albeit reluctantly. It was quite a boring process.

And so was life, Light thought. Life was this ever-ongoing cycle of mechanical processes which he was obligated to perform each day. Although his execution was flawless, the actions felt hollow. Wake, eat, school. Study, eat, family. Home, eat, sleep. Frankly, the directions on his shampoo bottle were more enthralling. Even after his Coming of Age, the sequence of life would remain largely the same. The only differences would be that school and study gave way to "career" and "work" -- which, all things considered, were even more unspeakably dull.

Light peered into his mirror and finger-combed his hair to perfection. Then sighed.

**--x--**

"HEY, LIGHT-O!"

The door swung open.

"Sayu, I _heard_ you the first time." His gaze shifted from the perky little sister to the taciturn bleach-blonde beside her. "Hi, Rem."

Rem, beloved neighbor to the Yagami household, nodded in acknowledgement.

"Here, I brought you your breakfast!" Sayu piped, presenting him with a saucer that featured two white pills. "You're going to the Library later, right? Can you tell Rem's sister that she's sleeping over tonight?"

Light plucked the pills from the dish and swallowed them. "Sure. Fine."

Sayu squealed. "Thanks, Light! Oh, and some of your school friends are waiting outside!"

Light smiled. "Tell them I'll be down in a moment."

Urgh. School friends.

**-x-**

"HEY, LIGHT-O!"

"...Good morning, Matsuda-kun."

A glare seared his face as he stepped outside. The lights beaming down from the ceiling arches of the Great Tunnel seemed particularly obnoxious today. He shielded his eyes and blinked, affronted by their audacity. But in his heart, he knew the lights were not to blame; they were always this obnoxious.

"Aw, 'Matsuda-_kun_'?"

"Get over it, Matsuda. He just doesn't like you that way."

"Shut up, Gevanni!"

Light walked through the pair nonchalantly, heading down the sidewalk toward the Academy. His two "school friends" followed hastily, squabbling with each other behind his back as they made their way down the silvery streets. They sauntered past the multitudes of chrome buildings and grey people. Crowds of men in starched uniforms and crowds of women in pencil skirt dresses shuffled pleasantly along. Soon enough, Light would shed his grey school outfit and morph into one of them. This reality became ever clearer as the boys walked through the center city intersection, passing City Hall, where various officials milled about in preparation for tonight's event.

"Gee, I wonder what role they'll give me... Light, what do you think?"

"Matsuda, everyone knows you're getting 'Village Idiot.' Accept it and move on."

"Gevanni!" Matsuda whined, giving the other an offended shove.

Light remained grimly silent.

**-x-**

"Yagami-kun, would you please narrate the rest of this passage?" the teacher prompted, adjusting his glasses.

Light stood obediently, balancing the open book in his palm and reading the text with perfect articulation. His classmates stared at him with varying degrees of interest. Gevanni and Matsuda were seated on either side of him, Matsuda apparently captivated by Light's smooth rhetoric, while Gevanni discreetly fiddled with something beneath his desk.

"...As long as the good citizens of the Great Tunnel comply with the virtues and teachings of the Community, our civilization will prosper and continue on in peaceful perpetuity."

The teacher nodded. "Excellent work, Yagami-kun. As expected. I know you will make a fine citizen."

"Thank you, Mikami-sensei."

The young teacher sighed. "If only I could say that for all of you..." Mikami cleared his throat pointedly. "_Gevanni_."

The accused froze and slowly folded his hands on top of the desk, his face the picture of innocence.

**-x-**

The dismissal bell had sounded, and students now stampeded eagerly down the front steps of the school. Light trailed behind the excited cavalcade, observing a small group of City Hall officials standing with the principal down by the school gates. All eighteen-year-olds were called aside, and when a considerable amount of students had gathered, the principal spoke.

"Good day, students. As we all know, the Coming of Age ceremony will be taking place tonight at City Hall, and you are to be the honored participants. This event promises to be the single most pivotal moment in your young lives."

Someone yawned.

Admirably unfazed, Principal Namikawa continued. "Now, these officials are here to explain the procedures. Demegawa-san is the head official in charge of the ceremony. Aizawa-san will be going over expected conduct and regulations. Takada-san will be handing out your certificates tonight. Please see her after the assembly in order to confirm the spellings and pronunciations of your names. Ukita-san here will be organizing the seating arrangements..."

Light found his focus rapidly dispersing. He sighed and rubbed his eyes, staring up at the high ceiling of the Great Tunnel. The city was nested beneath grand chrome arches, which, as the name implied, formed a massive tunnel over the Community.

Massive, but not endless. If one were to walk outward from within the city, going in only one direction along the tunnel walls, that person would eventually come across various construction zones, where architects and engineers labored to further extend the reaches of the Great Tunnel. If one walked further still, the pristine chrome would gradually give way to raw, untamed walls of rock and earth. And if one were to walk further still...

"Oh, Light-o, I think she's calling you!" Matsuda whispered urgently.

"Yeah. You might wanna tell her your name's not _Tsuki-chan_," Gevanni added.

**-x-**

And so, his day passed in a daze. He fulfilled the rest of his mechanical routine by going home, interacting with the family, and eating. His mother prattled on about how proud she was of her son, that he was soon to be a proper man, and his father grunted with much the same sentiment. Daily obligations fulfilled, Light excused himself from the house, on the pretense that he would be practicing for his Coming of Age.

Which was a lie, because, really, the only difficult aspect of the entire convention was finding the willpower to show up. He couldn't possibly miss it, but it was terribly boring, and in the last moments of his adolescence, Light sought some small reprieve from the humdrum sequence of his life.

He took a side route that bypassed City Hall, taking the long way around so he wouldn't have to deal with all those abominable decorations, and festivities, and _people_. Meanwhile, the lights of the Great Tunnel began to die down to a nighttime, purplish hue. It was never truly dark in the city, only somewhat dimmer in the late hours of the evening.

Eventually, Light wandered into a clearing within the city jungle and approached the sanctuary he longed for. It was a shabby, diminutive building. It distinguished itself boldly from the looming, chrome skyscrapers, though the amber and gold design of the structure was itself faded and worn. It was set on a slightly raised foundation, with stairs leading up to the entrance and archaic lamp posts lining the sides of the steps. Out in front, there was a neglected water fountain, where the water neither sprayed nor cascaded, merely rippling lazily in the circular base around a lifelike, white marble replica of some extinct vestige in history. A tree.

Light ascended the steps, his shadow shifting in the misty, golden haze of the lamp posts. Although the building was far from dazzling, he found there was a certain serenity here -- a breath of peace. Something familiar.

Upon entering, he was greeted by a warm and spacious foyer. The sole librarian, old man Wammy, sat behind a semicircular desk near the entrance. Glancing up from his paperwork, Wammy acknowledged the boy with a friendly nod.

No sooner had he returned the greeting than he heard the dull thumps of footfalls against carpeted ground. A spiral staircase beside Wammy's desk led up and through the ceiling to the second floor, where the older texts were kept. Down this spiral bounded an eager blonde blur, grey dress aflutter as she launched herself from the bottom-most step into Light's arms.

Misa.

**-x-**

"Your sister's sleeping over at my house," Light commented offhandedly, helping her replace books in the higher racks of the shelves. "Sayu insisted."

"Oh, okay, that's fine! And tell Sayu to come over my house sometime. We'll throw a slumber party! Just us girls..."

Like her sister, Misa was a beloved neighbor to the Yagami household. As children, Light and Misa had been inseparable. Their favorite play area was, incidentally, the Library, where they had spent their days displacing countless tomes and acting out the fairytales of old scripts. Back then, they had shared the synergy of two little dreamers.

"...little sisters grow up so fast? Sayu's as tall as me, and Rem's even taller! You know, they'll probably..."

Though, as the years passed, they gradually stopped playing pretend. Misa reached puberty, chased after boys, gossiped with girls, and tried ridiculous hairstyles. All the while, Light continued to frequent the Library, reading and rereading the old scripts and countless tomes.

"...excited! I remember when it was me and my classmates, and, well, I wonder how they are, now? You know, this'll be the last time you guys are all together in one place. I mean, sometimes I see people around and stuff, but..."

Then, last year, Misa had been assigned the role of library aide. She had been ecstatic, declaring that she and Light could now spend precious more time together, perhaps to reclaim the idle days of their childhood. Indeed, the two were reunited under the shabby roof of the Library. Light came by nearly every day, and Misa was delighted to see him, always. They would chat for hours into the night.

But in the time that they had grown apart, something was lost between them.

"Liiiiight? Light-o?? Are you listening?"

A dainty hand waved briefly in front of his face.

"Misa," Light said suddenly. "Let's run away. You and me."

The books slid from her arms in surprise. Misa stared at him with her mouth agape. Her eyes searched his for a moment, and then, coming to an understanding, she laughed. "Oh, yes, take me with you, Prince Yagami!" She giggled, collecting the books that had fallen. "You know I'd follow you anywhere! Let's get married, buy a palace, have eighteen children -- live happily ever after!"

He smiled, if only to humor her.

Then again, he wouldn't know where to run if she'd accepted.

When the blonde had calmed down again, the two of them resumed their tasks in mutually agreed silence. In the absence of conversation, Light wondered what time it was. He checked his watch, knowing he'd soon have to take the dreaded journey to City Hall. And as he allowed these thoughts to take precedence over his mind, Misa spoke up again, softly, perhaps more to herself than her unheeding companion.

"But, you know... Light... I really love this world."

* * *

**Where Angels Lose Their Way**

**--x--**

"_Congratulations_ to this young and eager generation! May peace and prosperity shine upon you, our newest citizens!"

Demegawa gesticulated flamboyantly, bellowing his ceremonial speech from behind a chrome podium and facing the grand audience that had gathered at City Hall. The eighteen-year-olds occupied three rows of seats behind Demegawa, whispering among themselves.

Light ran his fingers over the fancy, embossed lettering on his certificate of citizenship. As usual, he sat wedged between his two "school friends," who were currently occupied with the pleasure of mocking Demegawa's weighty form. He ignored the half-stifled guffaws of Matsuda and Gevanni, who were in the midst of discussing the way Demegawa's flesh jiggled when he waved his arm, or something equally inane. Light didn't care.

Eventually, the speech was concluded. One of the officials, Mogi-san, passed plastic cups of water down the rows, preparing for the last segment of the ceremony, before the assignment of roles. Light received his cup and stared impassively at his glossy reflection in the liquid.

"And now," Demegawa shouted, raising a melodramatic fist in the air, "let us toast to the health of these young adults!"

Everyone sipped their cups, bored.

**--x--**

Light fell forward from his chair and proceeded to spat violently.

A wholly unfamiliar, electrical sensation shot up the insides of his mouth, causing Light to grind his teeth and bite back a howl. Meanwhile, the entire assembly fell silent, all eyes watching as he writhed and clutched at his face. At some point, Gevanni had dropped to his knees and grasped his shoulders, shaking him lightly and demanding to know what was wrong. Matsuda looked about helplessly, pleading for aid. The officials exchanged glances with one another and made no move to help the boy -- with the exception of Takada-san, who excused herself to find some paper towels.

"Mikami-sensei!" Matsuda exclaimed, hailing the teacher who now ran calmly to the side of his student.

"Yagami-kun," the teacher prompted, attempting to garner his attention. "Perhaps you should step outside for a moment and get some fresh air." He nodded to the door through which Takada had disappeared.

"Pllff... ack... I..." Light sputtered some more, "I... all right," more hacks and coughs, "I'll be right back... I'm sorry about all this."

Thoroughly humiliated, Light picked himself off the ground, hand over spittle-covered mouth, and darted out the door. Gevanni tried to follow him, but Mikami stopped him mid-stride and asked that he please sit down. Matsuda placed a sympathetic hand on his friend's shoulder, and Gevanni sat with reluctance.

**--x--**

Outside, Light leaned against the City Hall building and breathed heavily. The sensation, that terrible sensation, continued to linger in his mouth, but it had cleared just enough to leave him sensible. Sensible of the mortifying scene he had caused, that is.

"Light."

Startled, the boy glanced up.

"Oh... Rem." He laughed a little, nervously. "Hey, did you come here with Sayu?"

She nodded, her golden irises seeming to glow in the dim nighttime. "Your sister is inside with the rest of your family." She stood a little ways off, waiting for him to regain his composure. After a few moments, when it seemed he had repossessed it, she said, "I was sent to give you this."

From the pocket of her school uniform, she produced a plastic bag containing a white, round object.

"Father says it will help relieve the pain in your mouth." The object was dropped into Light's hand, fitting snugly in the palm. "Eat it."

"Is it... medicine?"

"I think so."

Light looked between her and the object, perplexed.

"Bite it with your teeth," she instructed patiently.

Rem was a daughter of the Community Head, who by now must have heard about his little episode in City Hall, and so Light did not doubt her knowledge. He held the object awkwardly to his mouth and sank his teeth into it, pulling off a slightly moist chunk. It did not dispel the terrible feeling, but rather replaced it with a new sensation that was not so unpleasant.

"We should see Misa."

"Mm?" Light mumbled, mouth half-full. "What for?"

"She should still be at the Library." Rem turned and began to walk. "I think my sister and I can explain your condition."

"My _condition_?"

The girl nodded. Light discarded the half-eaten object in a trash receptacle and fell into step beside Rem. The pair walked in silence around City Hall and down a path that Light knew well. The chrome streets were empty now, the citizens either tucked away into their homes or attending the ceremony. Ugh, that ceremony. He would never forget this night.

"They made you drink vinegar," Rem stated suddenly. "You had quite a violent reaction. However, all of your classmates drank the same thing, and no others were affected." She glanced at him. "Why do you suppose that is?"

Light blinked.

"I... don't know," he admitted.

"Then, I'll tell you what I think." She stared thoughtfully at the streets stretched before them. "I once read about a certain phenomenon, in a book from the restricted library of City Hall. I had found it on Father's desk one day, and my sister may be able to find it again. ...Perhaps." She sighed. "Essentially, the passage described a lineage of humans who had unusual physical attributes. An extra sense."

Light shot her a skeptical look.

"You mean ESP?"

"I mean _taste_."

He gazed at her quizzically.

"It was said that those humans had a strong sensitivity to chemicals. It is a very rare condition."

"And you think I have it?"

Rem shrugged and said no more. Light watched her expectantly, but when she remained silent, he figured he'd gotten as much information from her as she could provide. They were now approaching the fountain in front of the Library, and the water rippled gently as they passed. Rem was the first to stop, then Light. They looked upon the building, whose windows were darkened and whose stairway lamps seemed to have been put out for the night.

"No one's in there. Where's Misa?"

Rem sighed.

"...We did not come to see Misa."

A hand was placed on his shoulder.

"Know this, Light. You _are_ a descendant. You are an Heir." Rem shifted silently aside. "I, on the other hand, am an Arbiter... and I am going to send you to another world."

She shoved him, hard, into the fountain.

Light had only time enough to send her one, stunned look before hitting the surface of the water. The fountain was small; only half of his body could have possibly fit into the base at once, and yet his _entire_ being was swallowed. A great surge of water seemed to pull him in, down beyond the refraction of Rem's image on the surface, down beyond the concrete limitations of the fountain, down beyond the faintest reaches of light and sound and sensation -- into a darkness that Light had never experienced, and was certain he would drown in.

Then nothingness.

**

* * *

**

_You have all that you can have. And it's never enough._

**

* * *

**

**From the Author:** In order to avoid confusion, allow me to point out that the narrator of the introduction up there is not Light. Those eight children are... well, you'll find out in due time. As you can see, I have a certain fascination for mixing a whole mess of unrelated Death Note characters together -- so, really, they could be anyone. Who knows?

(WELL, I mean, **_I_** know... :D -is shot-)

Any thoughts on the first chapter? Feedback is always appreciated.


	2. Tête à Tête

**Note:** Hello again, dear readers. It's been a week and a day, but I did finally finish editing this chapter (on time, more or less xD). A sincere thanks to all of the readers/reviewers of the last chapter; your encouragement gives me the motivation to plod along in my attempt at storytelling! Speaking of stories, this chapter here features the unveiling of certain worldly mysteries.

As well as the emergence of others. :)

* * *

**"This Kingdom of Sin"**  
_Tête-à-Tête_

A Western breeze blows freely,  
Constant in its brevity.  
This giving, guiding hand  
Directs the coming passerby  
Where kindness lines the wayside.  
Follow me, my friend:  
We'll leave this lonely world behind.

The whimsical **Western Wind**.

**--x--**

Flutter, flutter.

Pieces of dark red.

Swirling downward on the wings of the wind, down from the rubicund... sky.

Yes, it was a sky. He had seen such expanses in the illustrations of old, old tales. Though, this sudden recognition felt somehow more instinctive, like a well of inborn knowledge that he had never tapped into, though it had always been there, sitting dormant beneath his consciousness. He didn't know when he'd woken up or how, only aware of being conscious when he felt his eyes tracing the movements of dark-hued clouds above the swaying treetops, passing briefly over the mild round of orange sun.

Oh, he'd never seen a place more beautiful.

Light sat up slowly, allowing various plant residue to slide off his head and person. He was surrounded by trees, brush, foliage -- all sanguine red and dark brown wood. The ground was littered with leaves, including the black paved path on which he lay. There seemed to be a light mist lingering about the area, highlighted by the beams of sun which broke through the canopy of trees. The entire scene had a sleepy, ethereal quality.

It was not altogether difficult to believe that he had been transported to another world.

"Yagami-kun."

A whisper on the wind.

The breeze picked up suddenly, swirling the leaves from the ground into the air. A shadowy form was encased in the small whirlwind, taking on a form that Light was surprised to recognize. The air currents grew placid and died out. He stood and brushed himself off.

"...Takada-san."

She smiled at him coyly, standing now in plain sight on the black pavement in front of him.

"I followed you, Yagami-kun. Did the Arbiter explain why you're here?"

_Rem_.

"She... well, no. She only mentioned that I was some kind of special descendant. An Heir."

Takada nodded. "Yes. I'm glad we've found you at last." She stepped back and bowed. "I am an Ambassador, at your service."

Then she leaned forward a bit, her eyes twinkling, as though unveiling a secret.

"Welcome to the Fourth Cardinal House."

**--x--**

"This is my home world, Yagami-kun."

Together, they journeyed down the black paved path. Takada began to speak, filling him in on the major details of everything that he had never known for all the duration of his life. Details that were, apparently, common knowledge outside the antiseptic bubble of the Community.

"There are five worlds in total. They are themselves separate entities, yet they are governed by one, unified Kingdom. We refer to our worlds as the Cardinal Houses."

As they walked, Light observed the novel environment with external calm and internal wonder.

"Each House is headed by a pair of monarchs," Takada continued. "They are your cousins, in a sense, for they are descended from the 'perfect bloodline' like yourself." Here, Takada paused in her lecture and glanced at Light. "But as you know, Yagami-kun, your world is an exception. There are no monarchs, and the people have no affiliation with the other worlds. Ties between the Fifth House and the rest of the Kingdom were broken off long ago. Since then, your world has rejected all traces of its former existence, closing itself off and refusing to acknowledge the other Houses. ...That is why you are here now."

Light raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"You see, the Arbiters--"

"Who are they?" Light interrupted, maintaining a nonchalant air. "The Arbiters, I mean."

"Oh, yes. Well, the Arbiters are... the mediators between worlds. Guardian spirits, if you will." Takada folded her hands behind her back and resumed her briefing. "Anyway, they have expressed a desire to reunite the Kingdom. As of now, they would like for you to acquaint yourself with the other worlds and meet your cousins, the monarchs. Ultimately, they want you to resurrect the Fifth House."

He glanced at her slowly, keeping his pace carefully even. They wanted something from him. Now he was suspicious.

On the other hand, Light was immensely curious about these "worlds" and eager to see them for himself. He would have never imagined that anything of this sort existed, and now that he had something of an opportunity to explore these new dimensions, he could not refuse. And wasn't this what he had wanted all along? A getaway? Something... _interesting_?

However, Light was not a gullible person. He could sense that he was now walking into some sort of obligation, some predetermined design. If this was all a grand conspiracy, the likes of which he could not yet fathom, then could Takada really be trusted? Or even Rem, whom he'd _thought _he'd known so well? Though, at this point, he had little choice other than to play along. It would be best to resign himself to the role of an unassuming pawn -- at least until he understood the rules of the game.

"You know, we weren't even sure if you existed. An Heir, I mean."

Takada laughed lightly. "Our search was quite fruitless, to be frank. We were fortunate enough to successfully infiltrate the Community, but after that, we had no notion whatsoever of what to do. Then, lucky us, you revealed yourself and saved us the trouble of looking." She smiled, and Light smiled back, though the sentiment did not reach his eyes. "I'm really glad, Yagami-kun. I'm sure the Princess and Prince Consort will be equally pleased."

They walked the rest of the way in silence. Although the path itself was clear, it weaved around large patches of woods, which were dense and visually obstructive. As such, Light could not see the red stone wall, despite its tremendous size, until they were nearly upon it. They came across a metal gate in the wall, and through the gilded black bars, he could see a quaint town filled with modest buildings and people milling quietly about.

An old man sat on a stool just inside the gate. When the two of them approached, he rose and waddled forward, releasing the latch between the doors. Takada walked through briskly, nodding once to the old man, and Light voiced his thanks. The man simply closed the gate and sat down again.

* * *

**Meet the Court**

**--x--**

The town was, in a word, charming. Black streets dusted with wayward leaves, black lamp posts along the sidewalks, rows of red gabled houses, and trees scattered on the patches of dirt between the streets and walkways. It was an illustration from a children's book brought to life. And that dreamlike feel, that red sky and tender sunlight, lingered in the atmosphere.

This was the capital city, Takada had said. She was leading him directly to the palace, an aged but elegant structure on the edge of the civilization. It towered high over the other buildings, higher even than the walls at the perimeter of the town. Without hesitation, Takada pushed through the enormous, astonishingly lightweight front doors and entered the antechamber within. The interior was ornately decorated, yet comfortable, with various plush armchairs and wooden furniture situated about the room. Light found the palace surprisingly modest; he'd imagined the residence of royalty to be far more extravagant.

"Yagami-kun -- ah, or should I say -- 'Yagami-sama'?"

"'Light-kun' is just fine."

Takada nodded. "Light-kun. Well, why don't you just wait here a moment, while I..."

The doors at the far end of the chamber burst open. A company of three people, a lady and two gentlemen, were revealed in the doorway.

The older of the two men wore a low ponytail and an immaculate black suit. His overall appearance was tidy and precise, but his expression seemed restless. The other man (or boy?) wore his suit half-done, the jacket left open and the tie hanging loose from his neck. His hair was short and messy, but he seemed to have an amiable air about him.

The young woman (or girl, rather) wore a pinkish evening gown with a white tiara, and from that alone there could be no doubt that this was the Princess. Her brownish-gold hair was twisted into braids and her eyes overflowed with azure joy. It was she that rushed forward at that moment, grabbing Light's hands and saying excitedly, "Oh, finally, you're here! We've been expecting you for some time, you know. I've been so nervous, but -- oh, I'm so very glad to see you!"

She wrapped her arms around his torso and squeezed, leaving Light to stand awkwardly in her embrace.

"Just look at you, you're so handsome!" She laughed blithely, staring up at him. "What's your name, cousin?"

"Yagami Light," Takada answered promptly.

"Light-kun, is it?" she exclaimed. "Well, I'm Linda, pleased to meet you!"

He attempted to return the greeting, but she turned away suddenly and looked to the gentlemen. "That, there," she gestured to the younger one, who gave a little wave of the hand, "is Matt. The one beside him is our palace steward, Higuchi-san. Ah, and I see you two have already been acquainted, but this is Takada Kiyomi, our excellent Ambassador and my dearest aunt."

"Aunt?"

Light raised his eyebrows at Takada, who, by the way, was not much older than himself. Nothing about her manner or appearance could have given any indication to the fact that she was related to the Princess, but Takada nodded demurely, and the fact could not be refuted.

"Yes! Oh, yes! We're all one big family, related somehow or other. Except for Matt and I, we -- well, we're -- married, in effect."

"I see," Light replied serenely, turning to the redhead. So this sloppy guy was the Prince. "Nice to meet you, Matt."

Linda shook her head.

"Oh, he's deaf, dear. Can't hear a thing. Didn't Kiyomi tell you?"

"Deaf? No... I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"It's all right, you polite little thing!" Linda laughed again, slapping him lightly on the chest. "Why, honey, the whole _world_ is deaf!"

Light blinked at her, uncomprehending.

The Princess grinned and clapped her hands together. "How lovely! That leaves us much to talk about during your stay, doesn't it? Oh, we can visit the garden, go to the tower, have a great feast... Oh! But first thing's first!" Linda retreated a few steps and curtseyed. The other three followed her example, bowing politely to Light, who watched them with curiosity.

"Yagami Light, we hereby cordially welcome you to our humble estate. We -- of the Fourth Cardinal House, western bound of the Kingdom."

**--x--**

"I wonder what your world must be like, if you do not know!"

Shortly after the introduction, Linda and the steward had taken Light for a tour of the palace. The steward took it upon himself to point out the numerous rooms and décor, with evident pride in his care of each. Having no interest in the history of paintings or the positionings of furniture, Light largely ignored him. Meanwhile, Takada had gone ahead to prepare a guest room, and Matt had slipped away without his notice. The Princess was the chief source of conversation during the tour.

"You see, Light," Linda continued, "humans are inherently imperfect. It is nature. Commoners are born with common defects, such as blindness, muteness, deafness, and so on, according to their native world. We, of course, are without the normal handicaps. You and I, and all our relatives, are descended from the 'perfect bloodline.' We bear all the human senses."

They were strolling along in the garden. Higuchi walked ahead, ranting on about the rock displays and various breeds of grass. All around, there were multicolored trees and shrubs in crowded abundance. Though, interestingly enough, the garden had no flowers. Flowers didn't bloom in autumn, Linda had said -- and it was always autumn.

Light let the wind tousle his hair as he recalled the half-truths Rem had slipped him, mulling over those and Linda's words.

"How is it possible?" he wondered. "What makes us different?"

"It's in our blood, honey," she replied. "These are merely the cards that fate has dealt us; we have what the commoners do not. Of course, being unique can be a double-edged sword." Linda paused and glanced at a grove of trees nearby. "Look there! A pair of cute little robins! Oh, Higuchi-san, please don't scare them off. Do you like birds, Light? I just adore them."

**-x-**

Dinner was eaten early at the palace. After a brief tour of both the inside and outside of the building, the group had retired to the dining hall, where they reunited with Takada and the Prince, sitting down at a long table filled with aromatic substances. Light spent a full five minutes reigning in expressions of utter amazement, having never witnessed such a spread as this. He felt his mouth water -- a strange feeling.

"I'm so glad to be home," Takada sighed, sitting beside Light at one end of the table. "Did you know, Your Highness, that the Fifth House has replaced its entire food supply with pills?"

"Goodness! How funny!" Linda laughed. She seated herself beside Matt, on the opposite side of the table. "Wait just a moment, now. Light, have you never eaten _food_ before?"

Hesitantly, he shook his head.

"Gracious! Here, try some of this. Oh, and this -- and this, too!"

He watched with a mixture of uncertainty and fascination as she began to pile a range of unfamiliar substances onto his plate. His eyes flickered from the food to the Princess and back. Takada seemed to take the hint and flapped her hand, signaling for Linda to stop. Her niece ignored her.

Meanwhile, Matt speared some things with a silver utensil and began eating in silence. He was always the quiet one. Then again, that was only to be expected, considering he was stone-cold deaf. He didn't seem particularly bothered by this, however; the Prince was an easygoing and unconcerned fellow. He never involved himself much with the others, but perhaps that was a side-effect of being constantly oblivious to the events that went on around him.

"I love these! Let's see... how about a couple of those... Ah, a little more of this, you're too skinny. And--"

"Not all of the monarchs are 'perfect,' are they?" he asked mildly.

Linda paused in her activities, and Takada took the opportunity to shovel some of Light's food mound onto her own plate, embarrassed by her niece's unrestrained enthusiasm.

"Well... no. Half of us are, and half of us aren't. Every House is governed by one 'perfect' monarch and one native from that world."

Experimentally, Light fiddled with the utensils and nibbled at tiny pieces of each food item. This held his interest for a while, until he found that he was sensitive to the many unfamiliar flavors and only able to tolerate so much at once.

"Why is that?" he said, continuing to prompt the subject.

"Oh... well..." Linda began pushing food distractedly onto her plate. "I don't know, exactly. The Grand Arbiter is the one who selects the monarchs, and this is just the way he does it. This is how it's always been."

She stared down at her food, picking at it. "You have been chosen to become an Heir, Light, but you were not selected by the Grand Arbiter himself. I suppose you could say that you are just a candidate, really. But seeing as how there is no competition, all you have to do is complete your initiation and then participate in the coronation ceremony."

What?

"Initiation?" he repeated.

Linda frowned and looked to her aunt, passing the baton of the conversation.

"Yes, Light-kun," Takada began, dabbing her mouth with a napkin. "We were going to mention it later, after you've stayed awhile and made yourself comfortable, but we may as well explain now. You are something of an exception to the rule, having never been properly chosen. The Arbiters require that you complete a certain initiation, as proof of your eligibility as an Heir."

Light remained expressionless, but Takada smiled. "Don't worry. All you have to do is visit each House and have the monarchs present you with a certain gift. It's really just a formality, a way of officially recognizing you as a cousin. After that, you need to find the Place of Sending, where an Arbiter can take you to the next House. That's the gist of it."

Light burned these details carefully into his mind. So these were the rules of the game.

"...You should eat more, Light," the Princess said, recovering her perkiness. When Light made no move to comply, she grinned. "Oh, I guess you're a picky eater. That's all right! Just give what you don't want to Matt. He'll take it." She laughed, patting the Prince on the arm, who glanced at her, confused. The atmosphere of hospitality was re-established, and the ladies digressed to topics of no importance.

**-x-**

After the meal, Linda and the steward decided to finish the tour, leading him to the upper stories of the palace. They were now entering the last room of the highest corridor, besides the master bedroom, which was off-limits. Linda stalled a bit at the door, repeatedly touching the handle and then releasing it uncertainly. Light could only wonder why. Eventually, she took a deep breath and turned around.

"Higuchi, would you be so kind as to get the door, please?"

Light really, really almost rolled his eyes.

"Of course, Your Highness. No need to be shy."

When the doors swung open, he thought, surely, there was no reason at all to be shy.

These paintings were beautiful.

Windows that nearly spanned from floor to ceiling adorned the wall opposite the doorway, offering a splendid aerial view of the town below. The room smelled strongly of some odd odor, a scent that resembled latex, or battery fuel, or... something. Yet the smells could not detract from the utter intrigue of this room, whose immense floor and walls were cluttered to the brim with easels and canvases. There were a great many scenes depicted in these works, many of them captured in warm autumnal colors, the partly-finished creations still sketched in coal grey. Common subjects were the palace, the woods, the town, the red stone walls -- and one of a younger-looking Matt, in the corner.

A sweet breeze waltzed in through the open window and ruffled their hair with its passing. Dusky, red-orange light made the dust particles shimmer as they drifted through the air of the room, dancing softly among the many pieces of art, spotlighted in the glow of a dimming sun.

"It's lovely," Light said.

"Thank you," Linda replied softly.

After a pause, she grasped his hand and led him inside, toward the window, where the air was fresher. She looked to him amd said, "I'm so glad we've found you, Light. It's always quiet around here, and there's hardly anyone to talk to when Kiyomi's gone. But now everyone's home and, well, I'm glad." She finished with a coy little smile, and in it, Light finally discovered a likeness between the princess and her aunt.

Light permitted a tiny smile of his own.

**--x--**

"These will be your quarters."

When the daylight faded into night, Takada led him down the hall a ways from the art studio and showed him to his bedchamber. She walked in and flicked on a lamp at the nightstand. It offered a soft, misty illumination, reminiscent of those antique lamp posts which lined the steps to the Library back at... home. The guest room had one large bed, some dressers, a window, and a cushioned sofa. Takada also pointed out the bathroom and closet, opening each in turn to show him the inventory contained inside.

"The Prince has taken care to provide you with clothing, equipment, personal items, and toiletries, since you have none of your own at the moment. He insists that you take them with you, as you may need such things for your journey."

"My journey to the other worlds?"

"Yes."

After a thoughtful pause, Light asked, "How will I know where to find the Place of Sending?"

"Well, we can head out in the morning and have a look around. I know it's somewhere outside of town, although I can't seem to remember exactly where. You see, we ambassadors have special privileges that allow us to travel between worlds without the aid of Arbiters. We don't need to use a Place of Sending, like most people do."

"I see."

Takada nodded and headed toward the doorway. Light crossed the room and sat on the bed, testing it. The sheets weren't sleek white like the ones at home, and the bed wasn't stiff. The bedspread was a warm red, made from some kind of soft, heat-insulating material, and the mattress conformed to his weight. He found he pleasantly preferred these sleeping arrangements over the ones he had been accustomed to.

"Good night, Light-kun," she said over her shoulder. "Please call if you need anything."

"Good night, Takada-san. Thank you." He slid under the bed covers, blinking tiredly.

* * *

**Eventide  
**

**--x--**

He woke some time in the middle of the night, though he knew not how or why.

Oh, that's right. He really had to pee.

Throwing off the covers, Light bumbled sleepily across the suite and entered the bathroom. He quickly relieved himself and then threw some water on his face, blinking at his reflection in the mirror. A little rumpled -- not too bad. Anyway, he decided to forego the shower for one night and and grabbed a toothbrush he found by the sink. It seemed, at least, that this world was very much like his own in terms of cleaning rituals and sanitation necessities. Thank goodness.

Exiting the bathroom, he gently rubbed at his eyes and tried to adjust his vision to the darkness. He spotted an ancient analog clock over the doorway of his chamber and stared at it until he could make out the numbers. His efforts were in vain, however. He had never used (or so much as _seen_, aside from his history books) a non-digital clock and couldn't, for the sake of his life, figure out how to read it.

Why on earth were there _two_ pointer-sticks? Were they supposed to align, or something? Where were the minutes? He wondered, with a brief and bizarre notion, if these old clocks had some kind of genius design in which the exact time could be calculated from an algorithm of the two numbers that the sticks pointed to. Or, perhaps the key to this puzzle was the area between the two pointers. Maybe it even had something to do with the _angle_ at which they were positioned?

Light sighed. His brain was too tired to entertain these possibilities, so he simply gave in and glanced down at his watch. He was disappointed, however, to find that the timepiece seemed to be malfunctioning. The numbers had apparently frozen at 6:32 pm. The last time he had looked, it had been 6:21 pm, and he had just exited the Coming of Age ceremony at City Hall.

Wait.

When had he turned the lamp off?

At that particular moment, Light recalled having fallen asleep moments after Takada left, neglecting to turn off the light. Now it was dark. And kind of cold.

He turned and gazed at the lamp beside the bed, perched innocently atop the nightstand. It was possible that Takada or one of the servants had come in and turned it off for him, although that seemed somehow unlikely. Because, even if someone had turned off the lamp, that person most likely would not have opened the window -- which was, currently, open -- and let in the cold of the evening. _He_ had not opened it, obviously, so this realization gave him some anxiety. He approached the window with caution and looked out.

Nothing. He poked his head out for a better view, but there was nothing. Only an empty avenue below his window and the opaque of night lingering about. The black lamp posts lining the street glowed in regularly-spaced orbitals of light, but there was nothing to be seen. The town was quiet and empty.

Quiet, not silent.

He had thought, at first, that it was the murmur of leaves rustling in the wind, until he poked his head outside, realizing that there was no wind, and that the leaves scattered over the street were stagnant. With a chill, his brain began to interpret the murmur for what it was: a murmur. Voices. Many voices. Breathy little whispers that seemed to hover in the very air itself, for there were no signs of life to which they could be attributed. Anxiety trickled along his veins, but Light remained at the window, listening to those incessant, barely audible sounds.

Until something began to grope his hair.

**--x--**

Light screamed.

The offending hand removed itself from his head.

Light screamed.

"Shh!! Quiet, kid!"

Light _screamed_.

A crushing grip closed over the teenager's face, and he was pushed down to meet the carpet, head pressed back against the wall. "_Man_! Ya scream like a girl, ya know that?" The gigantic man snickered, then patted the boy's hair lightly, releasing his grip on the petrified teen. "Aw, come on, kid. I didn't mean ta scare ya."

Light was sprawled against the wall, features frozen and eyes bugged out in terror. This man, this freak-show of a man, must have been at least seven feet tall. The beastly size was difficult to estimate due to the loose, ragged black cloak draped over his frame. Through the opening of the hood, Light could just make out a pale face, broadly grinning mouth, and heart-shaped charm dangling from one ear, looking quite out of place.

"Oh yeah, I'm an Arbiter. Hyuk hyuk! Guess I shoulda said that in the first place, huh? Ah, well. The name's Ryuk. _You_ must be the Yagami Light that Rem told me about. I'm supposed ta look after ya."

"How thoughtful," Light replied curtly, rediscovering his voice.

"Heh -- yup! Anyway, guess I should get ta the point. See, I came ta show ya the Place of Sending. Come out tonight and take the path outta town, through the woods. Ya know the one. Follow that, and I'll meet ya there."

Light's eyes flickered uncertainly. Forcing himself to regain composure, he stood as calmly as he could manage and sat on the bed nearby. "How far..."

"As far as the path goes. I'll be waitin'."

Ryuk paused for a moment and looked to the doorway.

"Whoops. Gotta go. Remember what I said, kid."

He leapt out the window.

**-x-**

In that same instant, the bedroom door swung open, and light spilled in from the hallway. Linda, Takada, and Higuchi entered the room, all wearing bathrobes and looking various levels of disheveled.

"We heard the screaming! What's going on?!" Takada exclaimed, looking about. She found Light sitting moodily on the bed, staring out the open window.

"...Did something happen, dear?" the Princess asked carefully.

Light's gaze shifted to the trio standing in the middle of the room, allowing his calm facade to fall back into place. He ran a hand through his hair, as though exhausted, and said, "No, it was nothing. I just... had this terrible dream. I seem to have forgotten it already... although..." He yawned into his hand. "Nevermind. There's no need for you to worry." His face relaxed, as though the fear had passed.

"Was that all?" Linda gave a relieved laugh, putting a hand against her chest. "Oh, my! You poor thing, you. Let me give you a hug." True to her word, she padded across the room and gave him a squeeze, which he merely accepted in passivity.

Higuchi yawned loudly and declared, "Whatever, he's fine. I'm going back to bed."

"Yes -- yes, we all should." Linda touched Light's shoulder gently, then hurried to the doorway. "Good night. Sleep sound." Then she left.

Takada alone remained, gazing at the window. She slowly crossed the room and closed it. With her back turned, she mentioned, conversationally, "You know, Light, there's a flashlight in your closet. It is one of the useful things the Prince has had the foresight to provide. It could be helpful, in case you should find yourself unable to sleep again." She glanced at him. She was a perceptive one, he noted.

Pausing for a moment, Light weighed his options.

"I will remember that," he said.

**--x--**

The sky was infinitely black, as was the town and everything around him. The lamp lights along the streets had gone out at some point, leaving him with only the diffused beam of the flashlight as his guide. The town was less than picturesque in the all-consuming dark. Quaint architectural structures became grave and ominously shadowed; once-darling plant life now unsettled him with their distorted figures. Light had never experienced such absolute darkness, or the alterations to the world that it inevitably produced, having only ever lived in a place where there had been constant illumination among chrome skyscrapers.

What was worse was that, upon sneaking out of the palace stronghold, the mysterious susurrus of voices had become even more uncomfortably conspicuous. It was quiet, like words spoken just under the breath, but it was everywhere present and nowhere in sight. It was not the leaves, it was not the wind, and it was not any strolling passersby because there were none. There was nothing that could account for those noises. Nothing. But they were here. He could hear them.

Nevertheless, Light walked stoically down the various lanes, calling upon his memory of earlier on in the day, when Takada had led him up these same streets. Eventually, the reach of the flashlight touched upon the gilded bars of the town gate, and Light would have sighed in relief if he were not so numb from the cold. The old man was gone now, his stool standing vacant on the side. Light undid the latch and grabbed the stool, passing through the gate and then wedging the piece of furniture between the two heavy doors to keep them open.

**-x-**

Light had been walking down the black path for some time now. The low murmur of voices was present even as he entered the heavily wooded area. It was a constant drone in the background of his lone journey. Thus far, nothing had leapt out or attacked him, and there were no noises besides the whispers, so he walked on relatively undisturbed.

The woods seemed to grow denser as he proceeded, closing in on the path by gradual margins. If he was not mistaken, the mist which hovered over the path also seemed to churn thicker around his legs as time passed. His weary eyes flicked about sharply, flitting among the branches and brambles, the occasional large stones sitting between trees, and the motionless leaves which adorned the path and crunched wetly as he passed. Hours must have passed before the path was compressed into the width of just one man, and he was at the end.

A dead end.

Light felt his heart thump erratically against his chest. He had to take a step back -- had to place a cold hand against his head, and just think. There was the possibility that Ryuk had duped him into coming here, nowhere, for some evil ulterior motive that he could not imagine. Of course, there also existed the much more probable possibility that he had taken some wrong turn and deviated off the correct course. The logical thing to do, then, would be--

A hand shot out of the shadows, one finger beckoning him into the crevice.

He would have screamed, again, if he did not so well recognize that ragged sleeve. In another moment, the hand had withdrawn, and Light stepped hesitantly into the foliage, inching into a narrow opening in the trees that he had not noticed before. He had to fight his way through the sticks, brush, and branches, but when he emerged on the other side, he found himself standing in an open glade, enclosed on all sides by the woods. The field of grass and large rocks shimmered faint silver, courtesy of the glow from the red-rimmed moon, pinned up against the velvet sky.

"Hyuk, hyuk."

He traced the obnoxious laugh down the grass, along the snaking trail of several enormous tree roots, down a slight decline, toward an enormous tree in the center of the glade, which seemed to rest in a small valley between two hills. Reclining against the trunk was a likewise enormous man, Ryuk, who waved and motioned him over. If Light felt at all _small_ as he crossed the field and descended the hillside, he didn't show it. He was merely tired and impatient.

"Hey, kid!" Ryuk called, as the boy approached. "Ya sure take your sweet old time. I been waitin' all night."

He couldn't help but wonder if homicide was still illegal in this world.

"Aw, what's with the look? Don't trust me? Well, guess I can't blame ya." Ryuk stretched and stood to his full height. (_Eight feet_, Light amended. _He must have been at least eight feet tall_.) "But I'm on your side -- sorta -- so don't ya worry your pretty little head."

Oh, and that reminded him. Light narrowed his eyes.

"Why were you_ feeling my hair _earlier?" he demanded.

"So, let's jus' get ta the point," Ryuk began, ignoring the question. "You're an Heir. Yippee. But don't get cocky, now. Rem only picked _you_ 'cause ya were the first one we found, and there might not be any others left."

_Left?_

"A'right. Next thing we gotta do is get ya initiated. See this big thin' here?" Ryuk jabbed a thumb in the direction of the colossal tree. He reached into his cloak and pulled out an object, whose shape seemed somehow familiar to Light. "It's fulla these apples. Look at it, kid. Ain't it beautiful?" He outstretched his arm for the benefit of Light's observation. The object was indeed beautiful, with its smooth round form and dark red surface, accented by a polished shine.

Suddenly, Ryuk withdrew his hand and chomped down on the the object. Light recognized the white, slightly moist flesh. Of course, he had only a moment's observation before Ryuk proceeded to devour the apple with several quick crunches, wiping his mouth and face on the sleeve of his cloak when he had finished. Smacking his lips loudly, he grinned.

"Juicy."

The boy couldn't help but wrinkle his nose at the display.

"So, yeah, diff'rent apples grow in diff'rent worlds. For the initiation, either a monarch or an Arbiter has to give ya one. That's it. But ya can't jus' pluck one off yourself an' eat it; it won't work." Light blinked curiously, but Ryuk continued without notice. "Once that's done, ya gotta find the Place of Sending, where us Arbiters are waitin' ta take ya ta the next world." Ryuk moved out from under the tree and opened his arms. "This is the Fourth Place of Sending."

Light examined the Arbiter, the tree, and the small indenture of the valley where they stood. He nodded.

"I understand. Thank you for showing me the way, Ryuk. I do, however, have one important question." He closed his eyes momentarily. When he reopened them, they radiated with a searing, partly veiled intensity, burning like bridled amber fire. There was something profound in that gaze.

"What will you gain by making me a king?"

Perhaps it was fate that Rem had chosen this one, after all. And maybe, just maybe, Ryuk had found something... _interesting_.

"Hyuk hyuk! Good question." The cloaked man walked over and sat on one of the roots which snaked out from under the tree, as broad as a bench, large enough to accomodate even Ryuk's abnormal size. "But, see, I'm jus' followin' orders here. What ya really wanna know is what the Grand Arbiter'll gain by makin' ya the king. Dunno what _he_ wants -- I'm nothin' more 'n the lowly messenger. But between you an' me, it might be better ta jus' play along for now, 'til you've figured things out. Ya know?"

Light had been thinking along those lines, too.

"As for me, well, I'm jus' in this for the amusement, I guess. Got nothin' better ta do. An' anyway," he cackled, "you're an interestin' kid, Light. I like you. Maybe I'll pow around with ya from time ta time while you're goin' around the other worlds."

The boy considered it briefly and nodded. He and Ryuk could probably get along all right, if he overlooked the annoying habits. It couldn't hurt to have something of an ally, and as far as Light could tell, Ryuk was fairly neutral about this whole affair. A third-party observer. He could be useful.

"I wouldn't mind it, Ryuk," he replied. Light turned and glanced at the boughs of the tree. "So, I suppose I should go now. Could you hand me one of those apples?"

Ryuk stretched and lay on his side, elbow propped against the tree root, hand supporting his head. "Nah, kid, not yet. I just needed ta show ya where it was. Ya gotta come back in a few days."

"What? Why?"

Ryuk pointed a finger at the sky. Light looked up, observing the dark atmosphere whose horizon was just beginning to edge toward a rosy dawn. As far as he could tell, there was nothing amiss. His eyes sought Ryuk for explanation.

"Quiet, huh?" he said, pulling the hood of the cloak more securely over his head.

Oh.

That murmur of voices was absent.

"Run along, kid." Ryuk waved a dismissive hand. "The rain brings trouble."

A droplet of water moistened Light's shoulder.

* * *

**Hello, Stranger**

**--x--**

It was pouring by the time Light made it back through the gates. He pushed through the doors with ease, nudging the stool aside and patting himself on the water-soaked back for having the foresight not to trap himself outside. Of course, having never experienced such violent environmental conditions, he had not anticipated how unpleasant and terribly obstructive dripping water (rain) could be.

It must have been just past dawn, now. The streets were still empty, and the only sounds that broke the silence were those of raindrops pelting pavement. The heavy gales shoved him nearly off-balance as he walked, and he had to fight using the force of his weight when they pushed against him. It rained so heavily as to obscure his vision, such that the amount of light which actually filtered through the cloud cover became irrelevant. With effort, he could see a familiar, high-towering structure coming up ahead. He was treading down a side lane, the avenue that the window of his guest room overlooked, and he wondered if there might be a door here where he could slide in unnoticed by the maids.

...What was that?

Light shivered and shielded his eyes with his hands. There was something... something white and waifish standing on the path ahead, some forty meters away. It seemed to have a subtle, hazy glow, though it could have been attributed to the pounding rain and humid fog. That, or the cold and fatigue were beginning to addle his brain, and this was nothing more than a mirage manifested by his tired mind. Though, somehow, that seemed unlikely.

It didn't waver; didn't move. It was staring upwards at the sky, undisturbed by the harsh whip of wind and water. The thing had not yet acknowledged Light's presence, and so, slowly, Light began to retreat backwards out of the side street. He never took his eyes off the figure, taking care to make as little noise and unnecessary movement as possible. Well, but it was just his luck that the thing should incline its head, catch his eye, and begin trotting in his direction.

Such death-black eyes. Light stood there in the open, transfixed. It never even occurred to him to turn now and just _run_.

It drew closer, emerging from behind the curtains of heavy precipitation. Closer, and closer, and much closer than Light would have liked, eventually coming to stand mere inches from the rain-drenched boy. Now, the image was clear: pallid skin, stark white shirt, limp black hair. The form resembled a grungy, emaciated sort of man. Spidery, white hands touched Light's face, cupped it, pulled it towards the man. Light didn't know why he didn't run, but he didn't. Those cadaverous, vacant eyes stared at his face for a long time.

"Oh. Wrong person. Forgive me."

And just like that, it pulled back. The form shuffled around Light, rounded the street corner, and passed out of sight.

It was still cold, and it was still wet. Light was still soaked, his hands chilled to numbness, but he stood there mutely on the edge of the little avenue, withstanding the blast of the storm and just wondering. He lingered in this absent reverie until a sudden illumination fell across the pavement and commanded his attention. Amber eyes traced the beam to its source -- an open doorway in the side of the building. A certain redhead stepped out, fumbling with something in his hands and balancing a small white stick between his lips. His attention was thus diverted, until he glanced up and locked eyes with Light.

They both looked on in awkward silence.

No words could be exchanged between them, and therefore no explanations. After a while, they seemed to reach the silent consensus that none were really necessary. Matt plucked the paper stick out of his mouth and flicked it somewhere. Light sauntered to the doorway. The redhead wrapped a warm, dry arm around the brunette, escorting this sullen and shivering mass into the security of the palace.

**

* * *

**

_The whimsical **Western Wind**._

**

* * *

**

**From the Author:** And so, the obligatory explanation chapter is complete. (Long, huh?) Moving right along. :D

**--x--**

**Tête-à-Tête**  
Origin: French  
Literal Translation: "head-to-head"  
Definition: private conversation


	3. Fata Morgana

**Note:** GAAHHH... it's college application time, and I'm anxious, and I'm falling so very much behind in updating. Then again, I'm _always_ falling behind in updating. I know it, and I apologize; I'm just an untimely slob. :'D

Thank you to all of the readers who happened to remember this story and are reading this as I type. :) You are the inspiration to my work ethic, small and deteriorated though it is. I have finally come forth with this chapter, and I hope it will _absolutely regale_ you. Although... things will start to get a little ugly. Pleased be warned. (I may have to up the rating, I don't know. It's not that bad, but it's there.)

Har har. Enough of this vague stalling. Enjoy, _mes cheris_.

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* * *

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**"This Kingdom of Sin"****  
**_Fata Morgana_

**--x--**

"Who are you?"

They were standing on the path, the black-paved path in the middle of the woods, near the Place of Sending. Light recognized it well. Though it was a wonder that he did, because the world was currently shrouded in shifting white, a fog so thick as to fully blot out the image of the trees, sky, and everything around. It was bright, such bright white -- except for the path, solid black, where he stood.

There was a young girl standing before him.

"Pleased to meet you."

The smoky light was impairing his vision. He could not discern her face.

"Who are you?" he repeated.

She laughed a laugh that was not unlike the warble of a wind chime.

"I am the wind. The Western Wind."

She looked to be about twelve years old.

"...What do you mean?"

"You are in my House. The Fourth, that is. For this is the House of the dead." She paused, then, and added quietly, "...And I am dead."

Light took a subconscious step back.

"Oh, no, don't be afraid." She stepped forward. "I came to welcome you."

A cool hand was pressed to his forehead. It did not belong to the girl, who still stood some distance away, but to some unknown someone who was evidently standing behind him. The girl said something more, but her voice was fading, and the intensity of the whiteness was starting to overwhelm him. His eyes began to burn, to sear, and he gasped, but the mercifully cool hand slid over his eyes and closed them. They were large, long-fingered hands. Spidery.

**--x--**

Light woke in a profusion of sweat.

He was lying in bed, hair still damp from his little escapade in the rain. It must have been some time since Matt had let him back in.

At that instant, the door of his room opened, spilling yellow light from the hall into the room. Takada entered.

"Did I wake you, Light-kun?"

He blinked tiredly.

"No, it's fine," he answered smoothly, despite his fatigue. "Come in."

She nodded, approaching the side of his bed. "What did the Arbiter tell you?" she asked.

Light took a moment to regain focus, sifting through his memories of the night.

"He showed me the Place of Sending."

"Ah, that's good. We can visit it once the weather clears up."

She smiled, but as she continued to observe his face, her expression grew concerned. She pressed a hand to his forehead.

"Oh my. Your temperature--"

Light sneezed suddenly into his bed covers. He sat up quickly, looking startled.

"What was that?"

"'That'? You mean... the sneeze?"

Light blinked slowly, puzzled.

**--x--**

It was a standard cold and fever: nothing to worry about, the nurse had said. However, Light had never been ill before, and his misery was greatly compounded as he discovered, for the first time, all of the disgusting bodily reactions associated with illness. He was relieved when Takada handed him the sleeping pills, which would give sweet reprieve from all of the sneezing and aching and _snot_. (It was all so unsightly.)

Thus, Light slept and woke intermittently throughout the morning, several hours seeming to pass at the pace of several days. He could still hear the patter of rain outside his window, so incessant that the cadence pervaded his subconscious, becoming a hum in the background of his dreamless psyche.

Every now and then, between the lapses of consciousness, Light watched through slitted eyes as Matt entered or exited his room. Sometimes the redhead would bring a glass of water, or a wet towel, or just a chair to sit near his bedside. Sometimes Matt was there, and sometimes he wasn't.

At the moment, the chair was vacant. He closed his eyes again.

**-x-**

There was a wooden clatter, a shuffle of movement, and then a voice.

"Ouch... Oh, darling, sorry to have woken you."

Azure eyes smiled down at him. She was sitting on Matt's chair.

"Did you sleep well?"

Light shifted in the blankets and fluttered his eyelids, his gaze sweeping around the chamber as he attempted to recover sentience. Eventually, he realized that there was a certain dim lighting in the room, courtesy of the lamp on his nightstand, and that it would otherwise have been quite dark, for it was now the evening. In other words, he'd wasted the entire day sleeping. The thought disappointed him somehow, and the dark, gloomy room felt stifling.

Dark, stifling.

Bright, searing.

"What's the matter?"

Light turned his attention back to the girl, but hesitated a short while before speaking.

"Last night..."

"Ah, it's all right. Kiyomi told me all about it. I didn't know you were a sleepwalker -- how funny!"

Light stared at her. She smiled.

"Still, you've got to be careful," she continued. "It's dangerous to go outside during the monsoon season."

"Oh," he said.

"Well, anyway, I came to see how you were doing, and I brought you some more water. Here's your medication, too; you have to take it twice a day. I know it's a hassle, dear, but--"

"Last night," Light interrupted, "I had a nightmare."

Linda paused and replaced the bottle of medication on the nightstand. She sat down again and scooted the chair closer to his side. "Yes, I remember. You woke up screaming," she replied sympathetically. It took Light a moment to recall the convenient lie to which she referred, told after Ryuk's abrupt appearance in his room. "Is that what's troubling you? Can you tell me about it?"

"Well. In my dream, there was... someone. I don't know who. Someone who had died." He glanced at her. "...Someone who referred to this place as the 'House of the dead.'"

For once, Linda's face was entirely expressionless. She sat there, unmoving, for a long while.

"I didn't want to..."

She trailed off, then tried again.

"Well, you see -- it's -- haha, it's quite terrible, really. I should have told you sooner, I know, but... I didn't want to worry you." She sighed. "It's nice to have company around."

Thoughtfully, she rose from her chair and moved toward the window, whose panes were streaked with beads of water that glimmered in the illumination of the nightstand lamp. Light watched her carefully.

"In the beginning," Linda murmured, "each of the Cardinal Houses was given a distinct purpose. These worlds existed long before the Kingdom, as did the native people inhabiting them. Duties were distributed in such a way as to take advantage of the features existing in each world. For this reason, the Fourth Cardinal House is home to the burial grounds."

Brown eyes blinked slowly; they seemed not to understand. Linda continued.

"You see, corpses from every world are delivered to our lands for burial. Sometimes, though... the dead don't quite die. Over the years, our world has accumulated a great many souls, who rouse during the night and wander our planet. They cannot be seen under normal conditions, but they can be heard -- oh, not a night goes by that they do not make themselves heard. Of course, the only ones who _can_ hear are the 'perfect.' We are unique. The rest of the population in this world is deaf, and thus blissfully unaffected. That is why the Fourth House... is the House of the dead."

Light thought back to the disembodied voices he'd heard last night, and...

_Oh. Wrong person._

...if he were suddenly uncomfortable, neither his face nor his voice gave any indication.

"These spirits aren't dangerous, for the most part. It's only during the monsoon season that they become troublesome. You can see them now, when it's raining." She paused, then added, "You could touch them, too, but I'd advise against it."

"Touch them? What would happen if you were to touch them?" Light asked absently.

"I'm not sure; I've never known anyone to have done so. Rumor has it that the apparitions can take your soul, or haunt you, or pass on some fatal disease. Sounds silly, doesn't it? But what_ is _true is that they can be potentially dangerous. If they can touch you, they can harm you, and not every one of them is friendly."

_Forgive me._

She patted him on one of the blanket-tucked legs. "Anyway, as long you stay indoors, you're safe. I know you can't help sleepwalking, but when you're awake, please promise me you'll be careful?"

"Of course."

**-x-**

As Linda closed the door behind her, Light curled up on his side and drew the covers closer, shivering.

* * *

**These Daily Things  
**

**--x--**

In the days that followed, little of consequence came to pass. Neither the weather nor Light's health improved. The residents of the palace were contained indoors, shuffling about quietly, attending to their own affairs or occupying themselves with menial tasks.

During these long days, when Light grew restless in his sickbed, he would wander off to explore the hallways and various rooms of the building. There wasn't much of interest, except for the art studio, where Linda could usually be found sketching away in a notebook. He often visited her. Well, he often visited her paintings; he really did admire her work. However, art was inevitably a lone endeavor, and Linda always felt the need to fill the silence with mindless chatter, so Light never stayed for long. Sometimes Higuchi would be present as well, but _he_ was even more tedious company, and in that case, Light's stay was often shorter than usual.

Takada was always busy running errands around the palace. (What errands there could possibly be in such a passive household, Light would never know, but she did seem to be the one who dealt with the actual politics and responsibilities of the House.) Every now and then, she would drop by his room to check on his health, share some news, or gossip. Her visits were brief, unobtrusive, and routine.

Matt was aloof and inconspicuous, so Light generally saw little of him. If they ever crossed paths outside of the dining hall, it was by chance in the hallways or stairwells. Once in a while, the redhead would loiter around near an open doorway at the side of the palace, holding one of those paper sticks to his mouth. He didn't seem to mind it when Light came and stood with him, but the brunette didn't have much reason to stay, so he didn't. Matt seemed content to stand there alone with his smoking stick.

All in all, life had lapsed into a state of dullness.

When Light grew tired of pacing the halls, tired of womanly chatter, tired of silent gazes, he often sat in the quiet of his bedchamber and just stared out the window. The rosy sky was paled and eclipsed by cloud cover, and from his vantage point high in the palace, he could see that most of the trees in the town and surrounding woods had become bare of leaves, scattered by the deluge. He thought the town looked rather ominous now, filled with storm debris and enclosed by acres of wet swamp. The nights came and went, blending together in a continuum, the rain beating out its neverending cadence against his window.

He thought often of that stranger he had met in the rain. How cold his touch, how black his eyes. ...Lifeless. Perhaps it was because the stranger had had such a bizarre appearance that the image was burned indelibly into his mind. Whenever he sat beside his window, he would look down at that little avenue, casually, and just... look. He never expected to see anything, of course. And he never did. Still, he would stare down at the familiar piece of road and hear the phantom intonation of that voice in the background of his head: low, dreary, toneless... and so polite.

_Oh. Wrong person. Forgive me._

* * *

**Anomalies  
**

**--x--**

He climbed into bed and switched off the lamp, staring blankly at the ceiling, knowing that the next several hours would be spent lying awake, fidgeting. He sighed. And then, for the first time, Light found himself thinking of home.

He didn't miss it, no. They were just idle thoughts -- about the people he'd left behind, about the peers who must by now have been assigned their roles in life, and about what his own role may have been, had he stayed. Would it have been something arbitrary? Something prestigious? In the end, he supposed it didn't really matter.

With that, the whir of his thoughts died down, and he rolled over onto his side, staring at the wall adjacent to his bed. In the absence of thought, the newfallen silence, the view in his mind drifted toward a waifish white figure, standing before him in his memory and staring up into the darkness.

A sudden itch at his throat prompted him to sit up and reach for the glass of water on his nightstand, only to find it empty. His pills weren't there, either. Coughing into his arm, he pushed the sheets aside and scooted out of bed.

**-x-**

He held his glass in one hand and rubbed at his eyes with the other, fighting against the tickle in his throat that threatened to explode into a cough and wake the entire building. A headache was beginning to settle in as well. Needless to say, illness had been a miserable novelty. Though, in retrospect, this was all Ryuk's fault, wasn't it? He'd been the one to drag Light outside in the first place. Damned inconsiderate giant.

Light made his way down the hall, passing various chambers, other corridors, and a few flights of stairs. He knew his way around well enough to navigate even in the near-complete darkness. Yawning mutely, he approached the next staircase and began to descend the steps. The solid stairs, cushioned by layers of carpet, muffled his footfalls. All was silent, save for the soft brush of fabric against fabric as he moved.

Although, for a moment, he thought that he could hear something other than the rustle of his pajamas.

But it was nothing.

**-x-**

It was chilly in the dark kitchen. Light padded aimlessly across the cold stone floor, searching a nearby counter for a jug of water and his pills. When the blind attempt proved impossible, he felt along the wall for the light switch. Turning it on, he immediately found a container of water positioned infuriatingly close to his elbow.

He refilled his glass but was unable to find his medication. Sighing, he turned and decided to head back upstairs. Though, as he turned, he happened to spot a black void, a half-open door, at the far side of the room. It occurred to him, then, that this was the source of the unpleasant draft in the kitchen. He also observed a shallow puddle of water over the floor tiles, where the rain had blown in.

Light approached the doorway, stepping gingerly around the wet floor. Looking out, he expected to find Matt leaning against the wall, smoking, as always.

But there was no one. So he shut the door.

**-x-**

After ascending the long stairway, he returned to the hall where his room was located. By now he was exhausted, the fever draining his energy such that the climbing up and down of stairs became a burdensome task. Sitting down on the topmost step, he took a sip of water, refusing to acknowledge the fact that he was panting from exertion.

And then.

Then, there was a low but unmistakable murmur, rising briefly to audibility before dying down again.

Light rose slowly to his feet, leaving his glass on the carpet near the wall. A distinct sense of déjà vu permeated his skin, raising small goosebumps in its wake. Hadn't he been told that...

..._as long you stay indoors, you're safe_?

But there was something here. Indoors.

Soundlessly, Light walked the length of the hall, stopping several doors from the end, in front of his own chamber. He opened the door and peered in. Everything was as he'd left it. The bed was unmade, there was a wayward sock on the floor, and the room was largely vacant. The window, he noted in particular, was securely closed.

Returning to the hall, he paused and listened. There were no sounds. Nevertheless, he proceeded further down the corridor, toward the last room on the left, the art studio. Stepping inside, he examined the contents of the room with caution. Unsurprisingly, all of the objects and easels were doused in darkness and difficult to discern. Strangely enough, though, every canvas seemed to contain a vibrant red paint which stood out boldly despite the dark, rendering the many paintings vivid in only certain portions or strokes. It was altogether eerie.

Yet there was nothing out of the ordinary. The air of the room was stale with the stench of paint and art supplies, the windows at the far wall closed and intact. He turned to exit.

And then...

Not from within the room, but from some indeterminate place outside -- noises. Only, they weren't whispers. They were strange cries, almost howls, that chilled him to the core. Adrenaline quickening his movements, he bolted to the door and yanked it open before he could have doubts about confronting whatever may exist on the other side.

The hallway was empty.

He wasn't far off, however. The noises were coming from the room across the hall.

**--x--**

Immediately, a pungent, unfamiliar odor assaulted his senses. It was as though he had walked into a second art studio; this room bore the same ceiling-to-floor length windows, which spanned the far wall opposite him. In this room, however, the windows were placed on the side of the building which faced the red-haloed, silver moon. Faint light permeated the glass, illuminating the chamber ever so slightly and throwing odd shadows over the objects therein. Offhandedly, Light realized that the sky must have cleared for a brief moment.

Wails -- loud wails called his attention to the side of the chamber -- followed by wet smacks that made his skin crawl, although he couldn't reason why. He looked; there were shadows over there, people, moving frantically and shuddering and jarring the bed which creaked under their weight.

This was the master bedroom, wasn't it?

(Which was strange, he thought in a fleeting instant of rationality, because the master bedroom was off-limits. To everyone. Someone had died there once, or so he was told via rumor.)

Then his instincts kicked in, the intuitive well of knowledge that told him now, finally, to turn and run. He did so, because _they_ still hadn't noticed him there, and he would have made it back through the door. He would have, if only he had navigated around that stool beside him, instead of hurtling straight into it, over it, and all across the carpeted floor, which, as it turned out, was not so plush and soft when it scraped a trail of friction across one's body.

After that, everything seemed to happen in rapid, blurred succession. There was a scream, a true scream, not a continuation of the mortifying wails and moans of before. As Light got up to make another run for it, someone shoved him back into the middle of the room and darted out the door. Then, the other one, still screaming, attempted to disentangle from the sheets on the bed. She -- for it was undeniably a woman -- never ceased screeching at the most grating of high pitches. Light, bewildered by the noise and dizzy from the fall, sat up shakily. He wanted nothing more than to grab the woman by the shoulders and _shake_ her and tell her to just_ stop making such noise_.

When illumination and the presence of several other people filled the doorway, Light looked up. He found himself staring in consternation at the face across the room, framed by brownish-gold hair and staring back with joyless azure eyes. Those eyes were nothing less than outraged, until they became aware of the crowd at the door, and then they quivered. Her face paled and her hands clutched the sheets helplessly to her body. Light didn't know how he looked at that moment, but that was quite irrelevant, because no matter how utterly confused he appeared, the situation was certain to be misconstrued.

A crowd of servants, none of which could hear the slightest sound, cluttered the entrance and stared openly, silently. At the forefront of the group was Takada, who must have been the one to hear the turmoil and round up the servants. Light could feel the scorn in their eyes.

Not to mention Matt, who stood just beside Takada, looking absolutely livid.

Arriving late to the scene, Higuchi pushed to the front of the crowd, grumbling, "What's all this racket?!" He stopped beside Matt and fell silent along with the rest of them. But Light knew that he was the only one noticing how uncharacteristically rumpled Higuchi seemed then.

**--x--**

_The whimsical __**Western Wind**__._

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**From the Author:** I apologize for the implied, not-so-sexy sex scene. I really do. I found it incredibly awkward to write. Still, you've got to admit, HiguchixLinda action is scarier than _ghosts_ any day. Poor Lightykins. D8

Your thoughts?

**--x--**

**Fata Morgana**  
Origin: Italian  
Literal Translation: "Morgan le Fay"  
Definition: elaborate mirage


	4. Tasukete

**Note:** Hey, an update! Wow, I thought these only came out during every other full moon! :'D Ah, well, I've been trying to get a weekly-update schedule rolling, but that's actually quite a hopeless effort. What has driven me to update sort-of-soon is that I feel the need to procrastinate in writing my college essays. So, it was procrastinate on this, or procrastinate on that. I chose the much lesser of two poisons to confront. Teehee.

Anyway, so, this chapter... bizarreness. Don't get discouraged, though, because the next chapter will explain the last three, and up the ante of this story. We'll be getting into some actual stuff of interest after Chapter 4 -- but it would be a spoiler to tell you why. :)

Olé! Onward to the story! :D

* * *

**"This Kingdom of Sin"****  
**_Tasukete_

**--x--**

The scrutinizing, incriminating gazes squelched the pleas of innocence before he could even raise them. In a daze, he allowed himself to be grabbed by unfamiliar men and pulled out of the chamber. He tried to say something as he exited, something in his defense, but Takada only shook her head. Linda said nothing.

The men yanked him urgently along, and his legs trembled with the injustice of it all. He tried from time to time to communicate with them, reason with them, but his words fell on deaf ears, with repulsive literality.

**-x-**

They ushered him outside, behind the palace, through the garden. There was a quaint little shed there, one with a sliding glass door and awning. It was just for decoration, of course; the shed held neither tools nor equipment. Today, however, it held a prisoner. Light was chained by the wrist to a metal bar, a fixture used to support one of the empty shelves jutting out of the wall. Afterward, the men retreated quickly to the palace. It was raining again.

The length of the chain was enough that he could sit with relative ease on the floor, and so he did, leaning against the wall and drawing his knees up against his chest. Closing his eyes, he began to rationalize. Really, the situation was ridiculous. It was all just a perfect unfolding of unfortunate events, and he hadn't done anything, nothing at all. Even if he had committed some damning transgression, what would they do about it? They couldn't very well hold him here forever. He was an Heir in the process of initiation, and soon enough, he'd have to leave for the next world.

Light sneezed, wrapping his arms more tightly around himself and shivering. Having opened his eyes, he spotted some movement outside the shed, watching as two people beneath a black umbrella approached the glass door. It was the Prince and Princess. Light eyed them warily. True, he wasn't overly fond of them at the moment, and if Matt's seething looks were anything to judge by, then the feeling was mutual, but their arrival meant that either Linda had confessed the truth of what had happened, or he now had the chance to persuade her to do so.

Linda held Matt's hand as they approached, then dropped it in favor of resting her palms against the glass of the shed entrance, shielded from the rain by the awning over the front of the shed. Matt stood a little ways behind her, still holding the umbrella, his face dark.

Before Light could speak, Linda's muffled voice was heard through the door.

"You must hate me."

He merely sat in silence. Linda seemed disquieted by his non-reaction.

"You... you mustn't judge me so critically. It's just -- I mean -- you know how it is. There's hardly anyone to talk to, so it tends to get -- get a little lonely. A-And sometimes, one thing just leads to another..." Her voice faltered as she grasped for vindication.

Originally, Light had intended to negotiate for a declaration of his innocence. But as he watched her plead, he was disgusted.

"What about Matt?" he said coldly.

She said nothing for some time, and then, to his surprise, laughed wryly.

"Matt?" she repeated, almost incredulously. "Matt, who never does a thing but eat and smoke and sleep? Matt, who never says a word, because he's as deaf and dumb as a rock? That Matt?" She laughed again, a true, mirth-filled laugh. "He's never slept with me. In fact, he insists that we sleep in different rooms -- and when I ask why, well, he writes that he thinks we're too young. But I... I know that's a lie. He hates me. Well, I hate him, too."

It was horribly ironic, with Linda ranting on like that and the subject of her rant standing just behind her, completely unaware. Light stared at her and squinted a bit, as though she were an abstract painting and he had to tilt his head a little because he wasn't certain he was looking at it quite right.

"Do you hear me?!" she shouted, raising her voice sharply without turning from the door. "I hate you, Matt!"

The redhead, as expected, was unresponsive.

"You see, he doesn't even know what I'm saying. He thinks I'm condemning you. He wants me to. But he doesn't know the truth, does he? He doesn't even know." Her voice trembled now, and she slid slowly to her knees, palms up against the glass of the shed door.

"I love you, Light."

He gazed at her intently, wondering where the hell that just came from.

"He doesn't even know," she mumbled, "that I love you. And... And I don't want you to go."

At that moment, Light had the sudden, appalling inclination that perhaps she had planned all of this.

"I don't want you to go!" she cried, breaking into a loud sob and banging her fists against the glass. Matt reached down and smoothed her hair, but she shoved him vehemently away. Light was thoroughly disturbed by the display, suddenly glad for the sheet of glass which separated him from her.

"Princess."

The call was heard faintly on his side of the shed, and he was relieved to see Takada walking briskly through the garden, umbrella in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

Takada touched Linda's shoulder gently and murmured what Light assumed were words of comfort, pointing in the direction from which she came. Matt seemed to understand this and nodded, leading the blonde back carefully to the building. Linda turned once and smiled tearfully at Light, before frowning and allowing Matt to lead her away.

Finally, salvation.

"Takada-san," he said, rising to open the door. "Hear me out."

"I know, Light-kun," she said calmly, handing him the water. He took a long, grateful swallow. "I know you are innocent." She paused for some time, and he waited for her to continue along that hopeful thread, but she said nothing more. Takada merely turned and started back to the palace, leaving him puzzled.

"Wait..." Light spoke with forced calm, following her step-for-step until the length of the chain became taut and he could move no farther. "Wait, Takada-san--"

She faced him warily. "I'm sorry, Light-kun, but this... is not about whether or not you are innocent. The Princess has elected to keep you in confinement for an indeterminate amount of time. She refuses to allow you to pass on to the next world. When the judge comes, the story of your alleged attack on the Princess will be told... and you will be executed. Another candidate for Heir will be chosen, and your soul will remain here."

His breathing constricted, and all he could think was how ridiculous this all was.

"You know I haven't done anything," he breathed. "Why don't you say something?"

Takada looked him in the eye, then, and though her gaze seemed to shine with some regret, her words were not optimistic.

"They saw you in that room, Light." She shook her head. "What can I possibly say?"

Light stared at her incredulously, then stepped back into the shed and sat down, looking at the glass of water in his hands. He just felt so tired.

"This was all I could do for you, Light-kun." She removed the glass from his limp grip, paused, glanced at him, and then slid the door shut.

As the lids drooped slowly over his eyes, he felt the secure foundation of his mind slide out from under him, and he was falling. For a long time, he saw only the black walls of sleep's deep chasm. A long time.

Then again, the seconds always seem much longer when you're falling.

* * *

**The Western Wind**

**--x--**

"...It's you."

The darkness had given way to a grey haze, surreal droplets falling rapidly against a black pavement. He recognized this place, and he recognized her, though he had not seen her face before this moment. He felt strangely at peace, here.

"Yes, hello again."

She was a girl of eleven or twelve. Her eyes were a relaxed, friendly hazel, and her pin-straight hair hung neatly at the sides of her head in two reddish-brown pigtails, apparently unaffected by the rain. Come to think of it, Light couldn't feel the droplets against his skin, either; they merely vanished upon impact.

"I'm dreaming again," he stated.

His thoughts, like his vision, were lucid this time.

"You are," she confirmed, "because this is where all souls go when their bodies sleep. A dream realm, you could say. But if your body is asleep forever, then this would be your waking world, too." She smiled and pointed briefly to herself, as though to say, _like me_. "And did you know? When it rains, a connection has been made between heaven and earth. The dream realm is superimposed upon the waking world, and these," she held her hands in front of her, palms up, catching the vanishing drops, "are the fragments of the two colliding dimensions."

Light glanced up, watching the delicate strokes of water as they plummeted.

"Rain is just water," he stated.

"Are you sure?" she replied.

...No. He wasn't sure. Nothing made much sense anymore.

"...I don't know."

The girl disappeared briefly and reappeared at the side of the black road, sitting on a bench that had manifested without his notice. She patted the portion of the bench beside her, and he complied, walking over and sitting cautiously. "Well, that's how I imagine it works. Because I don't know, either," she admitted. Her smile dimmed slightly as she continued. "There are a lot of things I don't know. Or, rather, there are a lot of things I don't remember. You see, when a person dies, he or she is only able to retain one memory from life -- and you don't get to pick."

"What happens to the other memories?"

The girl shook her head.

"Gone."

She spent a moment in quiet reflection.

"Though, sometimes, I think that the memories are actually still around, somewhere. Sometimes I see things that just -- just spark something, deep in the back of my mind, and then I get the slightest inkling of having seen or heard or known that thing before."

Light felt utterly at ease here, sitting beside this child under the rain. There was a natural companionship between them, he supposed, since she was currently dead, and he was going to die. Two victims of a nonsensical world.

"What kind of things?"

At this, she averted her gaze, looking down at the black road. "There's... this boy," she began hesitantly. "I talk to him all the time, when it's raining. He can see me, then -- and he waits for me, every time. But I don't think he can hear me. He never says a word." She began to kick her legs idly. "Still, he waits for me, and if he couldn't hear me when I introduced myself the first time, then he must have known me from some time before, when I was alive. And I... I'm certain that I knew him, once."

She paused momentarily. The rain was growing heavier, pouring now, but Light himself remained dry and untouched.

"If... I could have chosen what to remember, it would have been his name."

She was quiet, and he was quiet, for a while.

"What is it that you do remember?" he asked at last.

She looked up. "Oh, right. Actually, that's the whole point of our rendezvous today." She turned to him and smiled again. "Light Yagami, you are the Heir to the Fifth House. You absolutely must proceed to the next part of the Kingdom, and I will return you to your waking world, so that you may find an escape. Before you go, though, I want us to be introduced properly."

The girl disappeared, reappearing in front of him with his hand held loosely in hers. It was then that he noticed, for the first time, the faint red markings that spotted her palms and fingers, looking vaguely like stains from a marker. Or possibly paint.

"In life, I was the Princess of the Fourth House. That much I remember."

She shook his hand.

"I'm Linda, pleased to meet you."

**--x--**

He woke then, softly, the consciousness seeping slowly back into his head -- woke to the sight of two huge eyes staring through the door.

**--x--**

After the Princess had calmed somewhat, she had asked Takada to retrieve her sketch book from the art studio. Takada, of course, had obliged with a nod. Now, entering the studio, she made her way through the haphazard clusters of easels toward the chair by the window, where the sketch book lay. Looking out, she saw that Matt and several servants had gone out with coats and umbrellas, probably to look for the guest that had visited last night. He had disappeared after wandering off to the kitchen, but knowing him, he had probably gone back to the inn where he was staying without notifying anyone.

Takada sighed and picked up the sketch book, left open on a page containing a half-completed drawing of Light. She was unsurprised. The blonde had been sketching him constantly, secretly, for days.

_You know I haven't done anything. Why don't you say something?_

Normally, Takada wouldn't bat an eye at any request from her superiors. This time, however, she balked at the thought of executing that boy. Was it because he was supposed to be an Heir? Technically, he was only a candidate, and therefore disposable. He hadn't been properly chosen by the Grand Arbiter, either, so he was currently illegitimate. Perhaps it was fate that he should die this way; perhaps the real Heir was always meant to be someone else.

And yet, this hesitation. What was it? Was she... fond of him? The mere thought made her blush -- but no, that couldn't be it.

Turning, Takada began to head in the direction of the door, when something in the corner of her eyes caught her attention. It was the portrait of Matt in the corner, a painting of his younger self. Takada felt suddenly drawn to the canvas, touching the red of Matt's hair, where the paint had already dried, years ago.

"If only you were here..." Takada whispered, her fingers skimming lightly over the artwork.

* * *

**Northern Downpour Sends Its Love  
**

**--x--**

"Oh, excuse me. Did I wake you?"

Light blinked rapidly, his head still leaning against the wall, gaze directed toward the sliding door beside him. There, on the other side of the glass, was something like a cross between a man and a drenched cat; Light recognized him immediately. The stranger looked the same as he had several nights ago: black mess of hair, humble clothing, vapid expression. He was also crouching a little too close to the door for Light's comfort.

The stranger cocked his head to the side, peering in closer. "You seem familiar."

"We... bumped into each other a few days ago."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah."

"I see."

"...Yes..."

"Hello again."

"...Hello."

They stared at each other wordlessly. There wasn't much to say, or look at, for that matter. Their eyes were drawn inevitably to each other, and only Light seemed to feel the uncomfortable silence that came with it.

Finally, the man placed a thumb against his bottom lip and said, "Would it bother you if I were to stay here awhile? I do not wish to remain under the rain."

Light noticed then how piteous the man looked, soaked and crouched beneath the small awning for shelter. He supposed it would be selfish to ask the man to please get the hell out of his personal space, as he had been considering a moment ago. It seemed strange that a ghost would dislike the rain, though.

"It's all right. I don't mind."

"Thank you."

In any case, this ghost seemed fairly benign. He was reasonably well-mannered, anyway. If Light were to speculate, he would guess that the spirit had been some misfortunate man that had died while homeless.

"What's your name?"

The spirit glanced up from the ground, breaking away from a previous train of thought.

"My name is Ryuuzaki."

"I'm Matsuda."

The stranger was silent. Light wondered if he'd sensed the lie somehow.

"It's nice to meet you, Ryuuzaki."

"Why are you chained to that shelf?" the spirit asked, apparently done with pleasantries.

"It... well, it's a long -- where are you going?" Light asked quickly, backing up as the spirit rose abruptly from his crouch and opened the door. The brunette half expected him to ask permission to enter, but the ghost seemed to forego the manners and simply invited himself in, standing brazenly over Light as the boy remained huddled on the ground. Ryuuzaki bent slightly and observed the chain as it dangled from the shelf, approximately two inches from his face.

"Is this not rather uncomfortable?"

Cornered and irritated, Light snapped, "Obviously, I don't like it. I don't like you standing over me like that, either, Ryuuzaki."

The spirit took no heed of him, simply standing there and pushing his thumb against his bottom lip.

"Interesting."

"Ryuuzaki, _move_," Light growled.

Swiftly and unexpectedly, the ghost grabbed Light's wrist with one hand and _broke_ the chain with the other. He did it so quickly, simply, snapping the metal links apart like plastic. Amber eyes widened.

"You..." But his sentence was left unfinished as he turned his attention from one marvel to the next. The hand clamped around his wrist was death-cold, yes, but Ryuuzaki's hand was not at all like the ethereal flesh of the dead girl in his dream -- which he could feel as they shook hands, but only barely, and if he had pressed more firmly into her grip, he was sure his palm would have passed through hers. Like wind.

Light could also feel the faint heartbeat in Ryuuzaki's thumb, which was pressing painfully into the end of his forearm.

"Ryuuzaki, that hurts... And aren't you cold?"

"Why were you chained to this shelf?"

The inquiry was out of pure curiosity, but he didn't let go.

"I told you, it's a long--"

"I have time. So do you."

Exasperated, Light attempted to yank his arm from the man's grasp as he explained, "It was stupid. They thought I had done something I hadn't."

"What is this 'something'?"

What was with this guy? Since when had this become an interrogation?

"They thought I raped a girl."

Ryuuzaki's expression seemed to intensify, although the evidence of it was solely in his eyes and only visible if one were to look closely. Considering how close Ryuuzaki had put his face to Light's, Light could look just that closely.

"Did you?"

"No! I didn't!" One last yank, and Light had freed his arm, nursing his wrist and retreating to the back of the shed. "God, Ryuuzaki, just leave me alone!"

"Do you know who did?" the dark-haired man asked, placing his hands in his pockets with infuriating nonchalance.

"I never said she was actually raped," Light shot back. "Did you ever consider the possibility that she might have lied about the whole thing?"

"It was an affair, then?"

Light stared at him for a long time. Either this man was unusually perceptive, or he knew more than he let on.

"Who are you?" the brunette asked at last.

"A detective," Ryuuzaki replied easily, "here to investigate what I believe to have been a murder, four years ago. New evidence has turned up. If my suspicions are correct..." He looked down at the floor contemplatively, scratching his left foot absentmindedly with his right. Then, as abruptly as he had entered, he began to leave.

"Where are you going now?"

Ryuuzaki turned back and said, "Ah, I almost forgot." Before Light could make a break for it, Ryuuzaki had taken the length of chain discarded on the floor and pinned Light against the wall, tying his arms together with the metal links.

"What the hell?!"

"I apologize, but I would not want you to escape before the truth of the matter has been revealed. You could very well be a handsome, charming rapist." Light was brought gently to his knees, which took some effort on Ryuuzaki's part, seeing as how Light was kicking and struggling most unhappily.

"Don't you think this is _more_ uncomfortable than before?" Light gritted, aiming a kick at Ryuuzaki's crotch.

"I suppose," the man replied, catching the kick before it could do its damage, "but you will simply have to bear with it for now, Yagami-kun. I will come back after I have determined your innocence for myself. For now, I must be going. The rain has stopped."

And so he left, closing the door behind him silently, leaving an extremely peeved and bewildered Light to wriggle angrily on the floor. Some time later, Light paused in his writhing, having realized that the detective addressed him by his real name.

**

* * *

**

_The whimsical __**Western Wind**__._

* * *

**From the Author:** _Sense_? What is this "sense" of which you speak? I know nothing of this "making sense" business. :)

Okay. So. Do you, by any chance, know what's going on? If not, you are free to ask. I will gladly answer any questions in the author's notes of the next chapter, because everything shall be revealed in the next chapter. (Well, not _everything_, but you've come to expect that by now, haven't you?)

The most prominent question, however, will most likely pertain to this: there are two Linda's. Why? Well, there could be a purely logical reason -- or something so bizarre, you couldn't possibly guess. ...Could you?

I will stop with the silly convolutions now. Please review at your leisure. :3

**--x--**

**Tasukete**  
- Origin: Japanese  
- Literal Translation: "save me"  
- Definition: "Help!"


End file.
